Today Charley turns 7. And I’m in hospital missing it. But it’s made me think about the day he was born. The day he almost died. The day I came so close to a world I now know so intimately. I had polyhydramnios in the last few weeks of his pregnancy. Basically I had too much amniotic fluid. 4 litres was their estimation. It’s usually around 800ml. This huge amount of fluid led to this amazing ultrasound picture at 39 weeks which is highly unusual and the practice still has this one on their wall.
So the decision was made to induce me in case his cord came down before his head which would have been an emergency. Anyway details aside I was induced and they waited until his head came down so the cord was no longer an issue.
A short time later I started feeling very unwell and we called a midwife. She took one look under the sheet, turned white and ran out of the room. I had suffered a major placental abruption probably caused by the drop in pressure when my waters had broken.
Suddenly what felt like 3000 people were in the room and we were literally running to an already prepped operating theatre. I bumped someone’s planned cesarian just in time. They put me under general anaesthetic after telling me they weren’t sure he would survive or what condition he would be in.
I woke up an hour or so later with a picture of a screaming pink baby on my chest. He had lived. And was ok. He was in special care but only as a precaution and nobody could believe he had survived as well as he had.
Later they told me the placenta had almost completely detached and just 5 or 6 more minutes would have made the difference from him being ok and not.
So today, sitting in hospital I celebrate the boy who lived (and for those who get the Harry potter reference he also has a scar on his forehead!).